She now crossed over and sat down with a
peace-making laugh. She attempted to take Isabel's hand, but it
was quickly withdrawn. Fearing that this movement indicated a
receding confidence Mrs. Conyers ignored the rebuff and pressed her
inquiry in a new, entirely practical, and pleasant tone:
"What is the meaning of all this, Isabel?"
Isabel turned upon her again a silent, searching, wretched look of
appeal.
Mrs. Conyers realized that it could not be ignored: "You know that
I promise anything. What did I ever refuse you?"
Isabel sat up but still remained silent. Mrs. Conyers noted the
indecision and shrugged her shoulders with a careless dismissal of
the whole subject:
"Let us drop the subject, then. Do you think it will rain?"
"Grandmother, Rowan must not come here any more." Isabel stopped
abruptly. "That is all."
. . . "I merely wanted you to understand this at once. We must not
invite him here any more."
. . . "If we meet him at the houses of our friends, we must do what
we can not to be discourteous to them if he is their guest."
. . . "If we meet Rowan alone anywhere, we must let him know that
he is not on the list of our acquaintances any longer. That is
all."
Isabel wrung her hands.
Mrs. Conyers had more than one of the traits of the jungle: she
knew when to lie silent and how to wait. She waited longer now,
but Isabel had relapsed into her own thoughts. For her the
interview was at an end; to Mrs.
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